Rumbling Reminders
by cassieerin
Summary: The roll of storms bring more than rain.


**Disclaimer:** I own and/or profit nothing from this.

**A/N:** I stole this prompt from the artist's prompt page from LifeJournal's Summer of Boys Celebration hosted by hd_fanart. Below is the brilliant mind of the prompt as well as the prompt itself… I hope I did some justice to it, even if it was all stolen. ;)

**Prompt by:** ange_pange

**Prompt(s):** watching those green eyes  
myself reflected in them  
they no longer care

Thunder rolled overhead like waves washing upon the shore. The low rumbled started from some great distance, building in its crescendo, moving ever closer all the while. Then it broke, like the ocean reaching its highest peak, its edge curled with white froth, and the sound reverberated through the walls of the dismal house.

Lightening crackled outside, the only light that reached into the darkened space. It was the temporary forks of brilliance that, for split seconds at a time, touched everything within reach, set them to fire, and threw a handful of shadows over everything else that remained. Whatever the lightening couldn't bless with its grace was damned.

He sat in the shadowed, unnoticed, untouched, well and truly damned.

Lids were lowered over eyes that had become altogether too expressional. The thunder rolled in once more, eager and playful, and with it came the tide of memories that he had worked long months to lock away – all of his careful schemes of avoidance, distraction, and ignorance, undone by a single storm. The first storm of the summer. A new summer without… _him_.

He had been too easily recognizable what with his mussed up hair and ridiculous glasses. His laughter had been the reason for attention in the first place. Not many people were up before the sun, not even here on the edge of the world, and to find someone else awake – let alone awake enough to be laughing like that… of course one would have to acknowledge the other.

But once the laughter had been traced to its source, a young man leaning against the worn wooden railing of the beach side pier… well, many questions were answered with that one sight and it was best to choose a safe retreat rather than an awkward confrontation.

"Malfoy?"

Draco winced before smoothing his face over, presenting the blank slate that Malfoys were famous for and turning on his heel. He stood, straight and still, watching as Potter approached. There were no outward signs of malicious from the renowned hero. Still, best to keep on your toes rather than be taken by surprise.

Draco gave a small dip of his head. "Potter."

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, a small tilt of his head showing curiosity over animosity.

"Enjoying the sights, Potter. What else would one do at the beach?" Draco worked hard to keep the inflections of his voice neutral, even if he wasn't quite as successful with his words. Potter laughed and Draco blinked. It wasn't the reaction he was expecting.

"Right you are," Harry agreed. "Look, there's a bunch of dolphins swimming by the pier. I was watching them just a minute ago. Want to join me?"

Draco rocked slightly back on his heels, wayward sand that had traveled from the ocean's shore to the wooden planks of the pier shifted beneath his bare feet as he contemplated Potter's offer.

"Why?" he asked suspiciously. The crooked grin on Harry's face didn't alter in the least.

"Why are you at the beach, Malfoy?" Harry returned, a slight alteration on his earlier question. "To see the sights, right?"

Draco nodded slowly, looking for the catch.

"Then come see the sights. The dolphins are fun to watch. They're constantly jumping from the water and playing with each other."

"Yes, I've seen dolphin before," Draco drawled, clinging to his frown.

"Then come on!" Harry encouraged, adding a small hand gesture as he turned with a small bounced, headed back to the bit of the pier's railing that he had been resting against. He glanced back over his shoulder at Draco as he went.

"C'mon, Malfoy! Get that stick out of your arse and move it!" His laughter rang out alongside the words; effectively trimming away any malevolence the taunt might have carried. Slowly, Draco followed.

"You don't find this odd, Potter?" Draco asked, eyes roaming over the small table that separated him from Harry.

After they had watched the family of dolphins pass well out of sight Harry had proposed having breakfast – together. Somehow Draco found himself dragged along by the excitable Gryffindor who was now seated across from him on a small restaurant's patio that jutted out over and into the sand of the beach.

"My life excels at odd, Malfoy," Harry replied cheerfully, "this is just another page in the book."

Draco shook his head, bemused. He didn't know what to make of a Potter that wasn't hurling insults and taunts at him. No, he didn't know what to do with a Potter _he _wasn't throwing insults and taunts _at_.

"So why invite me along?" Draco pressed. Harry shrugged and grinned up at the server as their breakfasts was delivered. Bowls of fresh cut fruit were placed between them, a fry up placed just before Harry, eggs benedict set down in front of Draco.

"Why not?" Harry countered. "You were there alone, I was there alone…" He shrugged again and dug into his food eagerly. Draco shook his head. Potter's table manners were abysmal.

"Potter, your table manners are abysmal."

Harry stopped shoveling food into his mouth long enough to grin up at Draco. It was disconcerting to be on the receiving end of such a smile, especially when one had done nothing to deserve it.

Draco, startled by such a notion that he felt he needed to _earn _Potter's attention, let alone affection, stored the thought away for later examination.

"Nah," Harry disagreed. "I've just got a fine appreciation for food that manners can't be tamed to."

Draco sniffed, a response appropriate of a Malfoy, and carefully slid the side of his fork through his eggs benedict.

"What's that?" Harry asked around a mouthful of food. Draco worked hard not to sneer.

"What's what?"

"That," Harry replied, gesturing with his fork towards Draco's plate.

"Eggs benedict."

"What's that on it?"

"You've never had eggs benedict, Potter?" How appalling!

"Nope!" Harry answered cheerfully. "Looks… interesting. What's that goop on top?"

Draco bit his tongue to hold back his immediate reply. In some strange, alternate universe of himself, he was – gasp – enjoying the carefree banter with this new version of Potter. No need to ruin it with snark. Snark can always be shelved and used at a later date.

"It's hollandaise sauce. It's the bit that makes or breaks the entire dish. Improperly prepared hollandaise can ruin an otherwise perfectly prepared eggs benedict."

"What's it taste like?" Harry asked. Draco pressed his lips together and made a decision. If his decision was mocked then this would end here, he would stand, leave Potter with the bill, and not look back. However, if he wasn't mocked… then maybe putting up with Potter for a bit longer wouldn't be such a hard grievance.

"Here, give me your fork," Draco commanded, holding a hand out. Harry's eyes widened but he handed his fork over, fingers brushing inadvertently over Draco's as he did so. Harry glanced down at his lap to hide the blush that stole over his cheeks but Draco was too busy cutting off a perfectly proportioned bite of his breakfast to notice.

"Here," he offered, handing the fork back. Harry was very careful to not touch Draco this time, wrapping his own appendages around only the proffered utensil. He slid the bite into his mouth and let his eyes close with approval. He hummed lightly and, because his eyes were shut, missed the look of satisfaction that skittered over Draco's features.

The Malfoy blank slate was back in place by the time Harry's eyes reopened.

"It's brilliant," he breathed. Draco smirked a friendly smirk.

"Yes," he agreed, "I know."

Harry just smiled and returned to his own plate. Draco shook his head slightly.

"You're rather helpless, you know that, Potter?"

Harry laughed. "No I'm not," he countered. "With people like you around to point out my flaws there's always a chance that help will be forth coming and hope that corrections can be made. So I can't be helpless, really."

Draco found himself once more at a loss for words. He settled for rolling his eyes instead. Harry just grinned once more before concentrating on packing away everything on his plate.

"So where is the ginger-topped speckled crew you're usually surrounded with?" Draco asked, hands clasped behind his back as he and Harry wound their way through the open market a block over from the seashore.

As breakfast had finished the sun made its brilliant appearance over the horizon and washed the world in red and gold. Harry had leaned forward over the small table and, dressed in the natural colors of his school's House, convinced Draco to peruse the market stalls with him.

Why Draco had agreed was beyond him. There was something about Potter's eyes. Not just the sincerity and barely constrained joy found within, but the color itself. How had they gone to school for six years – spent all that time fighting and bickering – and Draco had never noticed how incredibly _green _they actually were?

"You mean the Weasleys?" Harry asked with a chuckle. Nothing seemed to be able to dampen his spirits.

"Yes, those would be the ones," Draco drawled, pausing to finger the material of a hand-woven beach towel.

"Eh, they're all busy with their lives right now. I wanted to take a vacation, I've never had a proper one you see, but they were all too preoccupied to come along. So here I am." Harry didn't seem too distressed by the lack of his usual cronies.

"Granger just let you off all on your own?" Draco questioned.

"I'm every bit the adult she is," Harry countered.

"True," Draco conceded, "but Granger always seemed the mother hen type. Overbearing and too concerned with everyone else's business. Yours especially."

Harry grinned and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Yeah, Hermione can be a bit overbearing but she does it out of love." He shrugged. "I don't mind."

"So she didn't argue with you coming alone?"

"Eh. She wasn't too happy with it," Harry admitted a bit sheepishly. The small duck of his head, the slight rise of his shoulders was almost cute.

Draco barely managed to not stumble over his own feet at the errant thought.

"She wanted for me to wait until she and Ron could arrange for some time off."

"Why didn't you?" Draco asked, feigning nonchalance. What _was _the matter with his traitorous brain?

Harry shrugged again, stopping to pick up a small sculpture created entirely by tiny seashells. "I love Hermione. Ron, too. But they're together now and they're great as a couple just… sometimes I feel like a hanger on. It's not much fun to be the third wheel."

Draco blinked. "I thought you were with the she-weasel." Harry shot him a quelling look. "Erm, the youngest Weasley – what's her name."

"Ginny."

"Yes, her."

Harry selected a pair of sunglasses and paid asking price for them, not bothering to haggle. Draco shook his head at Harry's lack of bartering skills and waited for an answer.

Dark shades in place, Harry blew out a deep breath and looked up to the sky. "Things didn't work out between Ginny and me. She wanted… a hero."

"Potter." Draco deadpanned. Harry glanced over at him and Draco found himself suddenly opposed to the creation of sunglasses. Harry laughed a little bit, joy still evident in the sound.

"I'm not a hero, Malfoy. I did what I had to do because, really, what other option was there?"

"Running away," Draco supplied. Harry shook his head.

"Nah. It wasn't a possibility. You know that as well as I do."

Draco stopped walking and it took Harry a few steps to realize he'd lost his companion. He turned back.

"What?"

"What do you mean by that?" Draco asked, crossing his arms over his chest, preparing himself for a blow of words that could destroy the tentative friendship that seemed to be building between the himself and Potter.

Harry walked back to Draco, closing the distance between them, and pulled the shades back off. He met Draco's gaze evenly.

"Did you run?" He asked softly. Draco let out a small sound before he could stop it. Harry touched Draco's arm, a barely there grazing of fingertips – skin brushing skin.

"I know you didn't have a choice. In your own way, Malfoy, you were as destined to do what you did as I was. If I'm a hero, so are you."

Draco shook his head. "I'm not a hero."

Harry grinned then, big and bright. "See? Like I said. Not a hero." He turned and began walking once more, shades sliding back into place. He motioned for Draco to follow. Draco did, reluctantly.

"Ginny's better off now anyway," Harry continued. "She and Neville make a good couple. He's a real hero."

"Longbottom?" Draco sputtered and Harry laughed.

"Yeah."

Draco shook his head once more, this time in disbelief. "I'm starting to see what you meant when you said your life was odd, Potter."

Harry's laughter echoed down the small alleyway with its buoyancy.

Afternoon found them sitting shore side, Draco tucked underneath a large umbrella and buried under half a dozen sun repellant spells. Harry was at his side, soaking up the sun's rays and watching as a small flock of children raced each other in and out of the surf.

"This is amazing," he said.

"What is?" Draco asked, looking up from his manicured nails. Even at the beach one should look their best.

"Everything," Harry replied. "The ocean, the sand, the sun… all of it."

"You sound like you've never been to the beach before, Potter."

"I haven't."

Draco's eyebrows rose. "In almost twenty-one years your muggle family never once took you to the shore?"

Harry shook his head, scrunching his nose up under his sunglasses. "I only spent sixteen years with them and no."

"Why only sixteen?" Draco asked, horror of all horrors, genuinely interested.

"Had to," Harry replied simply. At Draco's look he gave a small smile and elaborated.

"I had to stay with the Dursleys until I was of age – blood protection." At this Draco nodded sagely. Malfoys knew all about the power of blood, after all.

Harry continued. "The minute I turned seventeen the Order took my – the Dursleys – to a safe house while another group took me to Headquarters. I still keep in touch with my cousin a bit, he turned out to not be such a wanker after all, but I haven't heard from my aunt or uncle in three years."

Draco processed the information and settled on which bits he most wanted to question further. Family seemed to be something of a sore point so…

"The Order? Headquarters? What are you blathering on about, Potter?"

Harry's eyes lit up. Even behind those thrice-damned sunglasses Draco could see the difference and it worked a small, happy shudder over his shoulders and down his spine. Now what _that _was about could be processed at a later date as well.

What should have been an awkward and telling recitation was a fascinating story made light hearted by Potter's eagerness and excitement. There were points where sadness began to creep into Harry's voice and at those times Draco would speak, interjecting a crude joke or lightly teasing barb, and the darkness would diminish leaving Harry to continue his story.

The sun was stretched low and long over the world at their backs by the time Harry finished speaking. He breathed in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Wow," he said, "I've never told anyone all of that before."

He looked at Draco with something akin to wonderment. He had done away with the sunglasses a while back and the shades now lay abandoned in the sand between them.

Draco gave him a wry smile. "Are you surprised that the first person you spilled your guts to was me?"

Harry looked out over the ocean, stretched vast and blue and beautiful before them. He shook his head.

"No. No, I'm not. Somehow… it seems very fitting that you're the first person I tell all of my war story to. It's symmetry or balance or poetic or something."

Draco laughed at that and Harry turned to him, surprised. "Your rubbish at comparisons, Potter. Come on, I'm starving. Let's go eat."

If the invitation surprised Harry further he didn't show it, just clambered to his feet quickly and followed Draco along the shoreline to find food.

The waves seemed sedate under the moon's glow. Harry chased them back into the water, laughing madly, before running like hell's hounds were nipping at his heels when the next wall of water reared back and crashed down. He was dripping wet from the knees down and for once Draco couldn't think of an insult to save his life.

"Potter you're acting like Lovegood!" he called from his nice, dry spot just out of wave's reach. Well, there was that _one_ insult…

Harry laughed and threw his arms out to his sides, spinning in circles. "Luna's a great example of how I would like to be, how I'd like to live. So thank you for the compliment!"

Draco snorted with amusement. Only Potter could turn a phrase like that.

"How is she then?" Draco called out, speaking only slightly louder than normal to be heard over the musical flow of the ocean upon the shore.

"Who?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Lovegood."

Harry stopped spinning to look at Draco; teetering just a bit as his equilibrium righted itself.

"She's good," he said. Draco nodded.

"She told me, you know," Harry continued.

"Oh? What about? Loony's always on about something or another isn't she?"

Harry moved closer so they wouldn't have to speak as loudly but stayed where the waves could lap about his ankles.

"She told me what you did for her," Harry clarified. Draco found something over Harry's shoulder most very interesting and focused all of his attentions there.

"Thank you for taking care of her," Harry spoke, his voice quiet once more, almost lost to the sounds of the surf. "Luna's eccentric but I think it would have killed a part of me if I had lost her. There's more to her than meets the eye."

"I know," Draco admitted, equally softly, finally allowing his gaze to meet Harry's. Harry smiled, as though he knew what the small action and admission had cost Draco, and reached out.

Draco cried out his protest loudly as he suddenly found himself tugged calf-deep into cold, salty water.

"Potter, you complete arse!" he shouted in indignation.

Harry laughed loudly and danced away, leading Draco on a chase through the moonlit water's edge.

"Where are you staying at?" Harry asked. The pair was back on the pier where their day's adventure had begun. Harry was leaned over the railing, looking down and into the ocean below while Draco was turned to face the pier, his elbows posted up on rail's upper most beam.

"My family owns a small cottage a few blocks north of here. What about you?"

Harry grinned, his teeth flashing a dull white in the dim light. "I'm renting a hut right on the beach. It's brilliant."

"A hut, Potter?"

"Mmhmm," Harry replied happily, not in the least bit disturbed by the tone of Draco's prompting. "Complete with sand floors and hand-dug fire pit."

"Sounds like a sad version of hell," Draco sniffed. Harry laughed and bounced his shoulder off of Draco's.

"You haven't yet lived, Malfoy. Sometimes the real fun is in getting dirty."

"If you say so, Potter."

"I do."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence before Draco tipped his head back, squinting up at the moon. He found himself unusually reluctant to leave but it was getting late.

Harry broke the silence. "How long are you vacationing for?"

Draco gave an elegant roll of one shoulder. "I had planned to stay down here for the better part of the summer. Mother is redecorating one of the wings within the Manor and when she's in one of those moods it's best just to stay out of the way."

"Oh. I've rented the hut through the end of August."

"That sounds… nice."

Silence slid through the night to wrap around them once more.

"Will I see you tomorrow?" Harry asked. Draco gave a small start and glanced over at his companion.

"The island is small enough. I'm sure we'll run into each other at some point or another."

"Oh. Okay." Was it just a play of the imagination or had Potter actually sounded disappointed?

"I suppose… We could arrange to meet somewhere?"

Potter's grin was once again startling. How did he manage to be so enthusiastic? "Yeah! That would be brilliant!"

Setting a date for late morning, the two parted.

"See you tomorrow, Malfoy!" Harry called from the beach just before Draco was lost to the twisting streets beyond. Draco turned and waved before he considered the action, a smile on his lips. It was the third time that day that Potter had inspired something within him that had never before occurred.

Over the next two weeks there were shared sunrises and sunsets, randomly shared breakfasts and lunches and dinners. There were several visits to the local pubs where pints were poured, at Potter's insistence that wine wasn't meant to be drunk on nights out. Draco even consented to attending a muggle "movie". It was a learning experience for both.

It was after one of their nights at a local tavern that they stumbled out and into the moonlight.

"Come with me!" Harry cried out, spinning around so that he was blocking Draco's path. "There's something I want you to see!"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "And what, pray tell, should I be going to see instead of going to my bed to sleep?"

"It's a surprise. Please?" Harry begged. Watching those green eyes, their impossible depths each reflecting fragmented pleas, Draco found himself unable to say no.

"Alright, then," he agreed. Harry gave a short shout of pleasure and threw his arms around Draco's shoulders for a brief hug. The first time he had done so had surprised Draco badly. Two weeks later and he found himself conditioned to the impulsive Gryffindor.

After all the stories and antidotes the two had shared back and forth Draco was willing to bet several galleons that Harry's sometimes overly affectionate ways stemmed from the lack of touch found in his youth. But that was okay. Draco's own childhood, while filled with good memories, was rather low on its stock of physical attention.

The two followed several winding roads before stumbling onto a sand decorated path that led through a thicket of trees.

"Potter you're not leading me to some giant-dug ditch to off me and hide my body, are you?" Draco asked, only slightly worried. His shoes weren't fit for walking through dirt, after all.

"No!" Harry laughed in reply, reaching back and wrapping his hand around Draco's tugging the other man forward. "I promise, no giant ditches!"

Draco felt a certain warmth spread up his arm from where his hand was clasped in Harry's and he found himself wondering if Potter ever even realized that some of the gestured he made could easily be misconstrued. Really, when did two grown men run about holding hands? Still, it wasn't something that Draco put a stop to – nor did he encourage it.

In the silence of the Malfoy cottage he had reflected on the odd emotions and reaction that Harry pulled from him and decided that, overall, they weren't unpleasant and perhaps – just perhaps – he should allow things to develop as they would and see where things led. After all, there were worse decisions he could make about the situation and if things went they way they seemed to be going… well, it wouldn't be _completely _horrible. Not in the least.

Draco caught his breath as they broke through the line of trees, the path spilling out onto a secluded inlet of beach where the waves were nothing more than tiny laps upon the shore and the moon danced bright and merry in a welcoming line over the water's surface. The sand was bleached white underfoot, the ocean turned to glistening ebony, and Harry's eyes almost seemed to glow with happiness.

"What do you think?" he asked eagerly, voice low.

"It's – it's beautiful, Potter," Draco answered softly, eyes taking all of the scenery in.

"Harry."

"What?" Draco focused on the man at his side – the man who was still holding his hand.

"Call me Harry. Please? I mean, we're friends now right?" The look on Harry's face encouraged a quicker response, a quicker reassurance, than usual.

"Yes, of course we are… Harry."

That smile was back.

"Good," Harry sighed. He tugged once more on Draco's hand. "C'mon. There's one more thing I want you to see."

They skirted the ocean's edge and walked back into a different section of trees, these more scattered than the others had been and seemingly brighter for it as the moon was allowed to more easily filter through. Harry led them quickly through the undergrowth, as though he had already traveled the route many times before.

"Here," he whispered, stepping up and turning back to help Draco. They climbed up steps that had been carved from a tree's end – upturned roots smoothed out by time and use – and walked out over the fallen tree's side. Its top was flat from numerous feet walking over it various times. The tree had fallen over a small stream that fed into the ocean beyond but just beneath where the tree rested had collected a small pool.

Harry pulled Draco to the tree's edge, looking down and into the pool, waving at their reflections. Draco smiled at his companion's antics.

"Are you ever going to grow up, Pot – um, Harry?"

"I hope not," came the soft reply. Draco turned to face Harry then, eyes searching the other's face.

"The eternal Peter Pan, then?" Draco teased lightly.

"Second star to the right and straight on till morning," Harry breathed, his face as serious as Draco had seen it yet. Then Harry leaned forward, his free hand coming up to cup Draco's cheek and jaw.

Draco was left with just enough time to catch his breath before Harry's lips brushed over his own. The passing of a warm breeze, the testing of the waters, the promise of more to come; Harry's own breath caught and then he was kissing Draco in earnest. Harry's hand released its hold over Draco's to instead slip around Draco's back, pulling their bodies flush together.

Draco's hand found its way into Harry's flyaway hair, clutching, holding on desperately, eliciting the most delicious noises from Harry's mouth. He wanted more of them. They tasted sweeter than the heavy pants of breath or the seeking tongue alone. The noises were the chocolate topping to a platter already heaped with sweets and still Draco wanted more.

They stood entwined and stripped down to primal needs beneath the moon's gentle touch, their reflection in the pool showing a painting of lust and the trappings of something that could be more.

Draco swam to the surface of good thoughts and pulled back from Harry enough to speak. "This – this stays here, right, Harry? It wouldn't work – it wouldn't last back in Britain. This is just a summer thing, right?"

"Draco-"

Hearing his name for the first time on Harry's lips was like a prayer straight to Draco's soul and he knew in that moment what he was asking from Harry was too much. It wouldn't work and he should end it now. But he had always been weak – he and Harry had both agreed on that first day that neither of them was a hero. Who was he to change his role in life now?

"Draco, I want this to work. Not just now, but back home, too. Be my Never Never Land."

Draco let out a choked laugh. "Am I to be your Wendy then?"

Harry grinned, his breathing a little more in control. "You're many things, Draco Malfoy, but a mother hen and a young girl are not in your description."

"Well that's good to hear," Draco drawled. Harry bumped his nose against Draco's.

"Shut up and kiss me."

"Harry, we need to talk about this."

"Later. We can talk later. It took me three days to work up the courage to do this. Let me have this moment and we'll talk tomorrow."

It was a good plan as plans go and Draco agreed, using his grip in Harry's hair to fuse their mouths together once more and they stood in the night, acquainting themselves closer than they had yet.

Tomorrow turned into tomorrow once again until weeks passed them by and the end of their tryst showed no signs of existing. It left Harry's heart full and fit to bursting, especially once they accidentally fell asleep to next to one another and took to sharing their beds there after. But it remained a tiny worry, shoved aside and ignored in the back of Draco's mind. A constant niggle that appeared in the worst moments of time.

"Move closer," Draco mumbled, "I'm cold."

The comment, said without thought, woke him more completely than most anything could in such a short span of time. Harry moved closer, his arms wrapping around Draco and pulling him into the warmth of his own body heat. Draco could feel Harry's smile resting against the back of his shoulder but for once it didn't fill him with a sense of lazy contentment. Instead it sent shocks of ice running through his veins and stiffened his body without his permission.

Harry laid a gentle kiss to Draco's shoulder. "What's wrong?" he whispered.

"I'm cold," Draco repeated mechanically

"I know. I moved closer. You'll be warm in a moment," Harry assured him, speaking softly into Draco's ear before peppering kisses along the expanse of his neck.

"No, Harry," Draco pressed relentlessly, "I'm _cold_. What about the summer time is cold?"

Harry finally caught on; Draco felt the tension fill his lover as quickly as it had moved through his own body. Harry eased away slowly, sitting up and staring down at Draco as Draco rolled onto his back to look up and meet the eyes he had… fallen in love with.

"It doesn't have to end," Harry whispered.

"Yes, it does," Draco argued, sitting up himself and sliding his legs over the edge of the bed. It was the only piece of real furniture in the hut Harry had rented and they'd made use of it too many times to count over the past few months.

Draco took a moment to look around the small space, memorizing every detail; amazed at how much could be packed into one day, stunned at the lifetime that had fit into a few measly weeks.

"Why, Draco?" Harry asked, desperation crowding the words. "Why are you so damn insistent that this ends?"

"You have a life back home, Harry. Whether you agree or not, you're a hero. Hell, you're _the _hero. Your friends, your fans – the world wouldn't accept you being with me. You want to loose the Weasleys? Your family? You want to be separated from all of your friends? For me?"

Draco's voice rose as he continued to speak, struggling into his clothes gracelessly all the while. He got his pants shut and snatched his shirt up from the floor, finally looking up at Harry – glaring at him.

"I'm a fucking Death Eater, Harry. What has happened here, what's taken place between us, stays here and ends here. We don't work in the real world."

"But Draco, I love you." The broken admission, the tears working in tracks down Harry's face, the way his entire posture screamed defeat attacked Draco's heart with claws and daggers, ripping him to shreds. But he had blank Malfoy face to fall back on and he used it then.

"I appreciate that, Potter, I do. It gives me hope that someone else might love me some day but this here, this between us, ends now."

A strong breeze carrying the heavy scent of the ocean worked its way through the cracked walls of the hut. Lightening broke over the dull gray of the morning, illuminating Harry's face, his tears, and ignoring the rest of the hut, leaving it to its shadows and depression. Draco turned on his heel, needing to make his exit before he lost it.

"Coward!" Harry shouted at his back. Draco stopped, one hand on the door, to look over his shoulder at his lover. Harry stood next to the bed, skin sun-kissed and golden, powerful arms crossed over a chest that Draco had licked, kissed, and tasted so many times over. Harry with one eyebrow raised in challenge despite the tears that still spilt over his cheeks.

"Your mannerisms don't suit you, Potter," Draco spoke softly. "I see myself in them."

Then he was out the door and headed away from the turbulent ocean, away from Harry's pleas and cries for him to return, come back, just please talk it over, with thunder rolling to chase him the whole way.

The storm raged the small island for hours and Draco spent each of them pacing the Malfoy cottage. He would circle around the living area once, stopping at both ends to look out the floor to ceiling windows. He convinced himself that he was merely checking on the damage caused by the storm but that wasn't the truth.

He kept expecting, hell he kept hoping, that Harry would follow him. Fight for him. Come to him. Draco knew if Harry appeared, if he even got one more glimpse of him, his own resolve would fail and come hell or high water he would give Harry Potter his Never Never Land.

But Potter didn't come.

The storm ended and an hour later there was still no Harry.

The last, fading echo of thunder, reached back from the crux of the storm as though in farewell, and Draco was struck with a tidal wave of memories. It had been the best summer of his life. The summer that, he knew, he would compare all other summers to.

Draco was out the cottage door and streaking through the town's crooked alley streets before he realized it. His chest heaved with the effort and his arms pumped by his sides. He hit the beach going too fast and slid in a spray of wet sand, tiny clumps of which clung desperately to him as he picked himself up and headed down the debris strewn shore.

"Harry!" he screamed hoarsely once the hut he had become too familiar with loomed up on the horizon. He redoubled his efforts, forced his feet to move faster, carry him quicker.

"Harry!" he tried again, expecting that he had been too far away the first time because surely his lover would respond once he heard him.

"Harry!" Draco yelled, reaching the hut, hand turning the handle and shoulder slamming into the weak door. The whole hut seemed to tremble from the connection but there was no response from within.

"Harry, open the door! I'm sorry, I was wrong! You were right! We'll figure it out, we'll make it work!" Draco pounded his fist against the wooden strips thatched together. "Harry, please! I… I love you, too!"

When even this admission, made for the first time in his life to anyone other than his mother, still didn't pull a reaction from inside, Draco fumbled for his wand. His hands were shaking with the receding adrenaline as he aimed at the thongs of twine that served as lock and key for the hut.

"_Alohomora_," he whispered hoarsely. The door swung open obediently and Draco stepped through the opening, a cold hand closing round his heart.

Harry was gone. So were all of his things. There would be no joyful reunion, no laughter over how stupid Draco had been, no planning on how to introduce the Weasleys to Draco or how to make the Wizarding World accept the happy couple. Summer was at an end and so was Draco's happiness.

He couldn't return to the Manor. Draco's parents had become devout to one another since the war's end – like one giant honeymoon where they fawned over each other and whispered secret nothings to each other. They touched, hands faces, shoulders, whenever an excuse would allow it.

Draco used to find it endearing. Then summer happened and suddenly it was just too much. He retired to one of the other Malfoy properties, a bit of real estate that had come to the Malfoys from the Blacks upon his parent's marriage. The place was dismal, mostly abandoned for the better part of twenty plus years, and it suited Draco's purpose beautifully.

He devoted himself to potions. Via owl he worked out an arrangement with several of the apothecaries in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, working under an alias instead of using his own name. It kept his mind occupied, his hands busy, and demanded the strictest of attention.

There was no happiness, no companionship despite his mother's pleas, and it was exactly what Draco though he deserved. He had, after all, handed Peter Pan directly to Captain Hook and what kind of scoundrel who does that deserves their own Happily Ever After?

He managed and he was doing just fine with his managing… until summer came around once more bringing with it a terrible thunderstorm. His potions went to ruin, his mind went to rot, and his face went to crumbles as he at long last succumbed to tears.

The last, fading echo of thunder, reached back from the crux of the storm as though in farewell, and Draco was struck with a tidal wave of memories. He stood, drawing his wand in one smooth motion, and disapparated on the spot.

The sand slid beneath his feet, causing his arms to flail slightly as he struggled to maintain his balance. After all, his shoes were not meant for beaches.

A thin wisp of smoke trailed out the top of the hut Draco had landed closest to and he began to walk in that direction, anticipation building in his chest so that it was hard to breath. He stopped just before the door and knocked lightly on its surface, more careworn than it had been just a year before.

There was no answer.

Draco dropped his head and turned away, headed for the wood's edge to apparate back home. It had been stupid of him to appear in the opening as he had. Being charged with breaking the Statue of Secrecy was _not _what he needed.

"Draco?"

His heart hurt in his chest it jumped and began to beat so fast, so loudly. He turned slowly and there he was, framed in the door from the hut, sun-kissed and shirtless and looking so very much like he had on the day Draco had walked away.

This time it was Draco that closed the distance between them, his eyes never looking away from Harry's all the while. They were still as vibrant, as brilliant, as they ever had been. They shown with confusion and tiny shards of… dear, sweet merciful Merlin – could it be _hope_?

"I'm sorry," Draco said, his voice rough from disuse. "I came back. I tried – last year, I tried. I was too late. You were gone. I'm sorry."

The confusion from Harry's eyes fell away to be replaced with a darker shade of something; hurt. Pain.

"You came back?" he whispered. Draco nodded, coming to a stop an arm's width away.

"The storm ended and you hadn't come to the cottage so I came here."

"Why didn't you owl me? Why didn't you come to my house in London? Everyone knows where I live – it's all over the papers."

Draco tried for a smile but it was broken. "You were my happy thought, Harry. I didn't have enough fairy dust to fly and I didn't have the courage to try and reach you in the real world. This here wasn't real, remember?"

Harry's eyes were filled with tears once more but he held them in check, glancing away from Draco to look out over the ocean.

"And now? Could you fly now?"

"I don't know," Draco whispered. "Do I have my happy thought back?"

"You might," Harry answered, still staring at the sea.

"What about the lost boys and all of that? The Weasleys? Your friends? What will they say?"

Harry laughed but it was humorless, a mockery of the sound that Draco had heard so many times last year. "They no longer care, Draco. I told them, all of them. I'm fairly certain Hermione's been trying to hunt you down since the New Year. They just want me to be happy and… you're my happy thought, too."

That was enough for Draco. He closed the remaining gap between himself and Harry, wrapping his arms around his happy thought and holding it close, ready and willing to never again let go.

"What were those directions again?" Draco panted, some time later from where they lay sprawled out over Harry's bed, pressed close together still.

"Second star to the right and straight on till morning," Harry replied, mumbling into Draco's hair and pressing kisses upon him between words.

"That's it," Draco agreed, tilting his head back till his lips met with Harry's. "I love you, Harry, till morning and beyond. Can I still be your Never Never Land?"

Harry's laughter was pure once more, rolling over Draco like the crashing of waves on the not so distant shore.

"Always," Harry declared. "Always."


End file.
